Cruel

A cold hollowness creeps inside me.

I shake my head. "No!" The word wrestles through me. His lifeless body hangs in my arms.

"Don't do this to me." A low, deep sound escapes. "Wake up!" I beg, voice jagged and desperate. "Don't leave me. Please! Fight with me, infuriate me- please just come back to me, Silas." The last part gets lost somewhere in my throat. A howl pushes through me, the sound rumbling everything inside, gutting me.

I cup his face, thumbs softly rubbing where his dimples used to be, the corners of his mouth, always curved in a smirk.

I never realised how cold the world was without him by my side, without his warmth, the fire he'd emit.

The coldness of his absence sinks in.

I deepen the embrace, pressing my lips onto his. Once. Twice.

He's not coming back.

My cries evolve into sobs that shake my body vigorously. I hold onto him, gripping desperately, moving his arms to feel him closer to me, to not feel so cold and alone without him holding me back.

A low, aching lament grows inside me, reverberating on the walls of my sanity. The gates I had built so high to defend myself from all the hurt in the world, crumble to ashes.

Sirens blare, police flocking to us. Blue and red bleed into my vision, everything blurring. I feel someone hook their arms under mine, pulling me away. My arms thrash violently against them, legs kicking as I try to yank myself off and crawl back to him. But they tug me back and pull him away.

A dark storm swells inside, sharpness stabbing at my heart.

The world slows down a little bit.

How we'd been reduced to a body bag and a broken heart, I will never know.

My muscles ease, giving in to fate's callous design.

The devil's tricks are cruel, but crueller are the devils disguised as humans.

~~~

The sound of water droplets as they fall, one after the other, teases me. It's continious dripping has created a little puddle. Palming the cell floor, I shift in my spot. The coldness of the ground seeps into my skin, crawling up my spine. I pull my legs up, wrapping my arms around myself as I hide in the shadows of the corner, eyes following whatever bit of light dares shine through the shafts of the small window.

I rest my head on my knee, staring off into nothingness.

Silence.

Not peace. Not tranquility.

Just an eerie, haunting silence permeating my mind.

The jangle of keys echoes. Someone unlocks the door.

"You have a visitor." A woman announces.

My eyes do not acknowledge anyone.

"Thank you, Officer Sonders." Another woman thanks, voice gentle and worried.

The door closes.

The woman sits.

She observes me for a long time.

"Do you ever wonder what would've happened had you not attended Oxford?"

My eyes flit to my mother's. Exhaustion pinches at her face, sadness lingering all over.

I trail the length of the black bars that seperate us before staring back at nothing.

The unsaid words hang in the air, heavy and thick.

The weight of her weary gaze settles on me. Her breath hitches trying to conceal her crying.

I hated hearing her cry. I'd wince and cringe at the sound. The woman who bore me, in pain? No.

I'd be prepared for every ounce of pain that anchors her to be mine and I'd take it gladly.

But in this moment, it did nothing to me.

I wish it did. I wish I felt something.

Anger.

Sorrow.

Revenge.

Anything.

There was nothing worse than emptiness. Than feeling as though a ghost now inhabits your body and you're floating outside, merely looking upon yourself. As though you're soul has hidden itself somewhere, leaving a hole where it used to be. Dreariness casting an inescapable gray atmosphere on the world.

But then, perhaps feeling it was worse. Being flooded with all the pain. Feeling as though you might collapse under the weight of your grief, swallowed whole by an ocean of your ignorance.

I force my eyes to meet hers and not falter.

"Eleanor," She manages through tears.

"Do not grieve for me, Mother." I whisper.

She stammers over her words, "Had I been more adament on your father to not put so much pressure on you, to not send you to Oxford, perhaps none of this would've happened. You wouldn't be stuck in a prison cell-"

"Mother," I interrupt, brows furrowing. "Surely you do not think I regret anything?"

She gives me a puzzled look.

"The only regret I have, is that I did not have enough time. Before I came to Oxford, I was drowning under the weight of my own self-perceived insignifance. I was empty and bored, wondering what more there was beyond this? I wasn't satisfied with the little crumbs of life. I wanted more. I want more, that is who I am." The words pour out of me as I clutch my heart.

"Mother, Oxford breathed me back to life. I was falling in limbo when it dragged me out and shoved me right back where I felt most alive. I met someone who electrified my soul in ways I was nary conscious of until it was too late. Passion, vigor, life surged through my veins. He lit a fire in me that warmed a hollowness I didn't know existed. Even now, knowing the outcome, I would still go through it all again, because even despite the pain, I was living. I was alive. Only a fool would rather a safe and dull existence over a painful, heart-wrenchingly beautiful life.

Now tell me, how am I ever to go back? To merely exist after I've lived. What will satisfy the crater that has dug itself in my heart?"

She looked around trying to make sense of everything.

"What are you saying?" Something flashed in her eyes. Confusion, worry, fear?

I give her a sad smile. She reads my eyes, before rising and walking towards me.

Grasping the bars of the cell, she sinks down to meet me. She reaches her hand through the gaps and holds my cheek in her palm, "Grief is a reminder that you loved. Forge it into gold and wear it proudly. Do what you do best, make it into art. Immortalize it. Do not allow it to drown you."

She spoke it so smoothly, so easily. I was almost fooled into hope.

"Whatever he did, whoever he was... Do not let his memory be in vain. He wouldn't let your story go unwritten." She whispered with a wobbly voice, passing me a box.

Tears fill my eyes. I hold the box, confusion contorting my face.

"I found it hidden in your dorm." She says, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly before making her way out the door.

I examine the box. It was an elaborate golden chest with an odd looking keyhole, almost stamp-like. A little space where something was to be inserted for it to unlock. I rub my finger on it, inspecting the shape. The sun glistens on the gold, catching light on my necklace. The same oval shape with a decorative border. Not having any other ideas, I pick up the charm and push it into the groove.

Click.

Something unlatches.

Letters.

So many bundled up and tied with a ribbon. I pull it, unravelling the stack. Papers spill all over the ground. I sift through them to find notes, poems, dried flowers, music sheets and-

Sketches.

Drawings of me. In class, in the library.

'For all the moments I dared to love you'